Ghost Lanterns
by Mally O'Jack
Summary: Part 3 of the Regenerations Trilogy: Chakotay and Paris undergo a catharsis of sorts whilst on an away mission.


This story is also set in Season 2, some time after the episode Investigations. It takes place after my story 'The Enemy of My Enemy...' (which in turn takes place after 'Land'), although it can be read as a stand-alone.

This story has literally haunted me for ages, and I just had to write it to get it out of my system. Enjoy!

Ghost Lanterns

by Mally O'Jack

_Amidst the mists and coldest frosts,_

_With stoutest wrists and loudest boasts,_

_He thrusts his fists against the posts,_

_And still insists he sees the ghosts._

_- old Terran rhyme_

000

"We've located another planet with gallicite," the Captain said as they took their seats. "Fingers crossed our luck will be a little better than last time."

Tom Paris cringed inwardly at the memory of the incident she was referring to, and he purposely avoided looking at Harry. He had told his friend about it; he couldn't help it. He always told Harry everything sooner or later. The young ensign had been horrified - _"what were you thinking?"_, and had come up with at least three other solutions that didn't involve Chakotay ending up with a broken nose.

"But I didn't think, Harry, that was the problem," he'd replied, somewhat defensively. "I just reacted. I'm a pilot, it's what I do."

But between Harry's disapproval, and Chakotay not referring to the incident since - not even mentioning it in his report – he'd felt a vague sense of guilt, and had pushed the incident to the back of his mind.

"Mr. Neelix," continued the Captain, "would you care to share with everyone what you discussed with myself and Commander Chakotay?"

"Certainly, Captain," Neelix said, and he sat forward, his hands clasped together, mirroring the Captain's posture. "There is a planet," he began gravely, looking round the table, "that is rich in gallicite, and it's right around the corner." He glanced quickly at Tuvok. "So to speak. Now, I'm no engineer, but it would be more than enough to sort out your little warp coil problem."

"If it's so rich in gallicite, why isn't it being mined?" said B'Elanna.

Neelix paused for dramatic effect. "Because it's not there all the time."

Blank stares. B'Elanna was looking at the Talaxian as if he'd grown another head.

The Captain cleared her throat. "Thank you, Mr. Neelix, I'll take it from here. What Neelix means is that the gallicite causes electromagnetic storms to form in the atmosphere from time to time, preventing any long-term mining operation from taking place."

"The planet's M-class," Chakotay said, taking over, "with a humanoid society that Mr. Neelix assures us is post-warp."

"What is the political nature of the planet?" Tuvok said.

"Oh, it's stable, Mr. Vulcan, don't you worry," said Neelix. "The away team will be as safe as ..." he paused, searching for an appropriate metaphor, and then he brightened; "as safe as if they were scooting on down to the messhall for a bite to eat."

"Why is that not reassuring?" said Paris _sotto voce_ to Harry, who pretended not to hear him.

Tuvok frowned. "Even so, I advise a security detail as part of the away team, and a constant lock on the crew at all times."

"I understand your concerns, Tuvok," said Chakotay, "but don't you think a security detachment sends the wrong message?"

Paris knew that tone - Chakotay had used it on him more than once. It was mild, polite even, but what it really meant was, _I've made up my mind. Back off. _Paris willed the Vulcan silently to stop speaking

But Tuvok kept going. "Starfleet protocol dictates that in a first contact scenario, the away team is accompanied by security - "

"Ordinarily, I'd agree," interrupted Janeway. "But Neelix has reassured us these people are friendly. Commander Chakotay is leading the away mission – it's his call." She smiled, and Paris knew that tone too. Her words were final. At last Tuvok took the hint.

If Chakotay minded being undermined by Tuvok and having the Captain come to his rescue, he didn't show it. But the atmosphere in the ready room had definitely chilled by a few degrees. Paris shifted uncomfortably, and fell into musing whether the Captain would consider having the next staff briefing at Sandrine's. It was only when Chakotay said, "The away team will consist of myself and Lieutenant Paris," that he looked up sharply, and instinctively glanced at Harry. The younger man looked back at him, surprised.

"If that's all right with you, Mr. Paris?" Chakotay said.

"Sure," he blurted out, and then corrected himself. "I mean, yes. I mean, aye, sir."

Okay, now he was blushing. B'Elanna was eying him suspiciously and he caught a flicker of amusement in the Captain's expression.

"Is Voyager in any danger from these electromagenetic storms?" said Harry, and Paris was grateful to him for deflecting the attention away.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Janeway, "we won't get too close."

Paris concentrated for the rest of the discussion, but inwardly, a little voice was asking..._why me? _

000

They had chosen to beam down close to a small, secluded village by the sea; the concentration of gallicite was at its highest there, according to the scans. Paris breathed in deeply, enjoying the salty air after the sterility of Voyager. They made their way down through valley, and soon saw smoke rising from the huts.

The first person they saw was an old woman drawing water. Paris started towards her, but Chakotay caught his arm.

"Leave her."

Paris was confused. "Why?"

"We don't know the rules of this society. For all we know, we could be giving offense or committing some grave crime by approaching this lady."

"So what do you suggest?"

Chakotay gestured towards the path leading into the village. "Let's keep walking. If someone wants to talk to us, they will."

So they made their way through the huts. They saw a couple of children playing, and at one point a creature ran up to them. It was so like a dog that Paris automatically held out his hand for the animal to sniff.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"What, it's a crime to pat a dog now?" The 'dog' licked his hand, and Paris knelt down to stroke it. "Hey boy, what's happening?" It wagged its tail, clearly delighted with the attention. Chakotay frowned and headed off, and Paris resisted the urge to sigh. Why couldn't Chakotay have picked Tuvok instead?

He followed Chakotay, the dog at his side, and soon they reached the harbour. The tide was out, and there were no boats that they could see.

Paris shrugged, putting away his tricorder. "I guess we wait for someone to show up." He sat down on one of the fishing crates, but not before catching a look of disapproval on Chakotay's face. No doubt sitting down whilst on duty was against the rules too. Or perhaps it was because the dog was still with him. He felt a surge of irritation. Everything he did in Chakotay's eyes was wrong.

"I'm curious, Commander," he said, trying to sound casual. "Why exactly did you pick me for this mission?"

Chakotay was scanning the sea with his tricorder, and didn't say anything.

"It was the Captain's idea, right?" he continued. The dog responded as if he was the one being addressed, and barked in response.

Eventually Chakotay spoke. "It was my decision, actually. You impressed me back on the Faran planet."

Paris was sceptical. "You were impressed that I broke your nose?"

Chakotay smiled then. "No. I was impressed with your quick thinking. You've always had a talent for improvisation." He reached down and patted the dog's head. "It's like Tuvok said; I didn't know how safe this planet was going to be. Everything should go according to plan, but if it doesn't... I suppose I wanted someone with me who didn't always follow the plan."

He felt an unexpected glow at the compliment, quite possibly the first Chakotay had ever paid him, and didn't quite know how to respond. He was saved by the arrival of an old man walking along the harbour towards them.

"I see you've met Bo," the old man said as the dog jumped up at him.

"Is he yours?" said Paris, getting to his feet.

"No. He belongs to Gao, the innkeeper. I am elder Sun-Yin."

"My name is Commander Chakotay and this is Lieutenant Tom Paris," said Chakotay, holding out his hands. "We're peaceful explorers from the starship Voyager

"You are welcome," said the elder. "What is the purpose of your visit here?"

"We would like to mine some of your gallicite, if you'll allow us to."

"Where is it, exactly?" said Paris; "our tricorders show there's gallicite nearby but I can't locate it."

"It's on the seabed," the elder said, waving his hand in the direction of the ocean.

"How do you extract it?"

"We usually have no cause to. But if it is necessary, then we can extract the gallicite by hand, using an ancient panning technique."

Paris couldn't hide his scepticism. "Doesn't that take rather long?"

The old man's eyes narrowed. "Young man. Of course we would like to use extractors and transporters and drilling equipment. But each time there is a storm, our equipment is rendered useless. So we must live our lives free of any dependency on electrical technology."

"I'm sorry," Paris said, sincerely, "I meant no offense. But why don't you move further south, out of reach from the storms?"

"Because this is our home."

Without breaking eye contact with Sun-Yin, Chakotay said, "Lieutenant, contact the Captain and give her our report. I'm going to stay and talk with the elder."

000

Paris was down on the shoreline skimming stones when Chakotay approached him.

"Learn much?" said Paris.

"Elder Sun-Yin has offered to show me the panning technique they use to extract the gallicite."

"Why not just beam down the extractors from Voyager? It'd sure be a lot quicker."

"You're missing the point - this is a rare opportunity to study an alien culture up close. Wasn't that one of the reasons we joined Starfleet?" Chakotay actually sounded enthusiastic for once.

He skimmed a stone extra hard and watched it disappear into the mist. "I guess."

Out the corner of his eye he could see Chakotay looking at him.

"Besides," Chakotay said after a while, "according to the elder, there's an electrical storm on its way. We wouldn't have time to set up the extractors before it hits. I don't know about you, but I'd rather spend a couple of weeks planet-side mining for gallicite the old-fashioned way than waiting on Voyager for the storm to dissipate."

Paris tossed a pebble from one hand to the other. "You know, Harry lent me a book of proverbs. One of them said_, 'it's not the destination but the journey that counts.'_ "

"I wouldn't mind reading that when you're done."

He threw the pebble out to sea without bothering to skim it. "I couldn't get past the first page. Sounded too much like mumbo-jumbo to me."

Chakotay pursed his lips. "You don't have to stay."

He turned to face the commander. "Would the Captain approve of you staying by yourself?"

"Probably not."

"She'd approve a lot more if there were two of us."

Chakotay's expression didn't change. "Perhaps."

Paris sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll stay." He let the rest of the stones fall from his hands onto the beach. "I'm overdue some vacation time anyway."

The Captain hadn't liked the idea of leaving them for a couple of weeks, Voyager out of range and no way of establishing contact once the storm hit. But Chakotay had reassured her that the village was safe. And perhaps Janeway realised that, after the whole Jonas incident and the subterfuge that had taken place, she owed Chakotay one. So she said, "See you in a fortnight, gentleman."

000

"The storm's getting pretty wild now," Paris said, closing the inn door with some effort. He took off the great coat that Hong-Li had loaned him, shook it and hung it up.

"That's tame," Gao said from behind the bar, "storm's not even got started yet. Wait 'til you take boats out tomorrow."

"Good job I don't get seasick."

"You will," said Gao, and he laughed. "Don't throw up inside boat though will you? Hong-Li won't be happy."

"I'll try to remember that." He squelched over to Chakotay, who was sitting by the fire. Bo rose to greet him, wagging his tail. Chakotay nodded at him. "Busy day?"

"Oh yeah," Paris said, running a hand rapidly through his wet hair, "it was fun though. We caught a lot of fish. Hong-Li says they're attracted to the electrical energy in the storm, so they all come up to the surface. Makes it pretty easy to catch them."

"Aren't the boats at risk of overturning?"

"Ours nearly did, but that's because I was steering it." Chakotay looked displeased, and to change the subject he looked over at Gao, who was limping towards them carrying a jug of hot broth. "Hey Gao, what were those lights I saw out there on the sea?"

"Lights?" Chakotay said.

"Yeah, they were white, bright white, about a dozen of them. They were hovering over the water."

"Don't pay them no attention," Gao said roughly, setting the jug down.

Paris glanced at Chakotay, confused. "Why? What were they?"

"Ghost lanterns."

"Excuse me?"

Gao looked over his shoulder as if afraid of being overheard. In a low voice, he said, "They are souls of folks who died bad deaths. Sometimes they creep out of the storm with their lanterns and steal the living away. We call them ghost lanterns"

Both men stared at Gao, and then Paris burst out laughing. "That's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard."

"Paris," Chakotay said in that warning tone of his.

Paris looked at him incredulously. "Oh come on, 'ghosts'? They're probably just phenomenon related to the electrical storm." He turned to the bartender. "Look, if our tricorders were functioning, I could show you - "

"No!" said Gao. "Don't speak about it." He jabbed a dirty finger at Paris. "You'll do as well not to laugh about them, neither. If you see them lights again, shut your eyes quick." He hobbled away.

Paris shook his head, and took a swig of the broth. "Funny, I didn't peg Gao for the superstitious type."

"What makes you so sure it's superstition?" said Chakotay.

"Right. I forgot who I was talking to."

"I'm just saying – I don't think you should dismiss Gao's explanation so easily."

"Perhaps, but if there's strange lights appearing in an electrical storm, I'm not going to automatically jump to ghosts as the likely cause." Paris sat forward to make his point. "Look, Chakotay, you know what they're like in these backwater places; they see something that they can't explain and call it a spirit, or a ghost, or a wil'o'the'wisp. They're scaring themselves for no reason."

"Or it could be their way of coming to terms with the death of their loved ones. Think about it; they're isolated in the remotest part of the planet with no access to medical care. No doubt the mortality rate is higher here. Perhaps this myth of theirs helps them to attribute some meaning and sense to death."

"But they're deluding themselves!"

Chakotay looked at him oddly. "You know, Paris, you've always made it clear you're no fan of Starfleet, but I think you're more Starfleet than you realise."

Stung, Paris got to his feet. "I'm going to get changed."

Chakotay watched him leave, and then took a sip of the broth Gao had brought over and brooded into the fire.

Why had he insisted on baiting Paris like that? Yes, he was tired – he'd been out early with Sun-Yin, another day spent learning about the traditional methods of gallicite extraction, talking to the elders about their culture, the history of their village, of their planet... But that was no excuse.

The truth was that being here, spending time with Sun-Yin, reminded him of his home. He wished he'd spent more time with his father this way; his father had been so desperate to teach him about his tribe, but he hadn't listened. He'd been in such a furious hurry to leave, to join Starfleet. And for what? He'd been expecting to find freedom, enlightenment even - and instead there had been betrayal, suffering and death. And it had started with his father.

Now, living in this community, seeing the harmony that the villagers had created with themselves, with the ocean, with technology, and their awareness of what could be, and their peace with what was...for the first time since being on Voyager, he felt at home. He felt that he could live here.

But here also was Paris. And it wasn't Paris's fault that he irritated Chakotay, it was just that Paris was so _Starfleet, _with Starfleet's annoying propensity to look down on other cultures as inferior, judging them by what they didn't have without seeing what they did have. Dismissing beliefs and practices as superstition without bothering to look at the deeper truths underlying these beliefs.

Perhaps he was a little anti-Starfleet at the moment... but didn't he have every right to be? The Federation had stabbed them in the back with the treaty they'd made with the Cardassians, and one betrayal had followed another; first Tuvok, then Paris, Seska, Jonas – even Janeway, shaming him in front of the crew. And the worst betrayal of all...the one where he'd betrayed his father by joining Starfleet in the first place.

He sighed and took another sip of Gao's brew. He felt disillusioned, and weary with it all. Bo must have sensed his dark mood, for he rested his head on Chakotay's lap and whined.

After a while, Paris returned and Chakotay put down the parchment Sun-Yin had given him. "I'm sorry," he said before Paris could say anything. "It's been a long day." He didn't elaborate.

One of the nice things about Paris was that he didn't hold a grudge. He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Guess I should learn to be a little more open-minded."

By now a few of the fisherman had entered the inn and had started up a game of chance. Paris gestured with his head. "Want to join in?"

"Thanks, but no. You go ahead."

000

Over the next few days, as Gao had indeed predicted, the storm grew in intensity. Paris still went out with the fishermen though; he enjoyed the exhilaration of fishing out on the rough sea. Conversely Chakotay had complained of feeling out of shape after sitting day in day out panning for gallicite, and so to compensate they went on long walks over the cliffs in the evenings. They didn't say much; the howling wind prevented any real conversation, but the walks were companionable all the same.

He found that he usually slept soundly at the end of each day, but for some reason that night, something woke him. He lay there half asleep, listening to the thunder rolling overhead. Lightening flashed intermittently - and then suddenly, he saw it! Lit up by the lightening, a hooded figure was standing at the foot of his bed, holding a lantern. Wholly awake now, he cried out in shock, but when the next flash of lightening came seconds later, the figure had gone. He managed to light a candle and he swept the room but it was empty. He almost thought of calling out to Chakotay in the adjacent room, but decided against it. Reluctantly he settled back under the covers again, but it took him a long time to fall asleep.

In the morning he went down for breakfast. Chakotay was there already, tucking into some something that looked like porridge.

He sat down heavily on the chair nearest the fire and grunted a greeting.

"Morning yourself," said Chakotay, and looked up. He must have looked a little sleep-deprived, because Chakotay added "Rough night?"

"Yeah." His voice was raspy with early-morning croakiness. He cleared his throat. "Had a nightmare. Thought there was someone in my room."

"What made you think that?"

He shrugged and leaned back to give Gao space to put the porridge bowl. "It was only there for a second. Someone holding a light. But it was gone again."

Gao gave a sudden jerk, and dropped the bowl on the floor. It smashed, and Bo leapt up, barking.

"Gao? What's the matter?" Chakotay said.

But Gao didn't even seem to notice he'd dropped the bowl. Instead he was staring at Paris, ashen-faced. "It was in your room? A ghost lantern?"

"Now hold on, I didn't say it was a ghost lantern," Paris began, but Gao was already backing away from him.

"You must leave. Get your things and go."

"Wait a second -"

"Now!"

Chakotay held out his hands. "Everyone, calm down - "

"No, you don't understand." Gao pointed at Paris. "It's chosen you."

Paris felt a chill run down his neck, despite himself. "It was just a dream!" he said, exasperated now. "I have a really, really over-active imagination. Ask Chakotay."

"I must tell the elders about this." Gao started limping over to the door.

Paris looked at Chakotay helplessly.

"What will happen when you tell the elders?" said Chakotay.

"You'll have to leave the village. I'm sorry but we can't take our chances."

"That's it," Paris muttered under his breath. Standing up, he used his most persuasive voice, the one that always worked on Harry; "Gao, this is crazy. I'd been thinking about the lights before I went to sleep, and what with the lightening and the storm and all, I had a nightmare. Don't throw us out – where else would we go?"

Gao eyed him warily.

"Sun-Yin says we're nearly at our quota for the gallicite," Chakotay added. "Please let us stay."

"You can stay – it's 'im what saw the ghost."

"It was a dream!" Paris all but shouted.

The innkeeper appeared to think it over. "All right. You can stay - "

"Thank you."

"- but if there's any more talk about lanterns or lights - "

Paris shook his head. "There won't be. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"That's a no," said Chakotay hastily, seeing Gao's expression.

"Good." Gao gestured at the spilt porridge. "You can clean that up for a start." As the innkeeper hobbled off, Paris avoided looking at Chakotay. He could tell the Indian was displeased with him, but it wasn't his fault they were so superstitious here. He clicked his tongue. "Hey Bo, look. Breakfast." He pointed to the porridge, but Bo wouldn't go near him. "Great. Even the dog's spooked."

To Paris's supreme annoyance, word had got round about the supposed ghost lantern in his room, and the fishermen refused to let him go out with him. He pleaded with Hong-Li - "Come on, it was a dream, that's all." But Hong-Li shook his head. "Sorry, Tom. The men think you're bad luck."

He couldn't stay at the inn all day, not with Gao shooting daggers at him. So he was forced to spend the day with Chakotay and Sun-Yin, helping them in the deadly dull task of gallicite extraction in the sub-zero hut, forced to listen to their discussions on philosophy and anthropology. He couldn't even read a padd - the electrical storm interfered with all their equipment, rendering it useless. He wondered what Harry would say when he told him how their stay in the village had ended; he'd probably find the whole thing amusing.

"Sun-Yin thinks the storm will break soon," Chakotay informed him as he was scrubbing the extractor.

"Great. I can't wait to get back to civilisation again." He knew as soon as the words left his lips that Chakotay would be ticked off. But he didn't care; the disturbed sleep was beginning to catch up with him, and he was cold, headachey and irritable.

"Depends on your definition of civilisation -"

"Oh, spare me the opinion of the high and mighty Chakotay."

"You're out of line, Paris," Chakotay said quietly.

"No, you're out of line!" He threw the extractor down. Sun-Yin was looking at them, and for some reason that made him even madder. "Here you are pretending to be all noble and peaceful, going on about traditions and spirits and all the rest of that crap, but I've seen the work of your hands. I've watched you choke the life out of Cardassians and rain down fire over Federation munitions bases -"

"That's enough, Lieutenant!" Chakotay said sharply.

But it was like something inside him had snapped. "Sun-Yin, Janeway - they don't know the half of it. They think you're a man of peace, with your spirit guides and your spirit quests, like you're so righteous, but really you're just looking down on the rest of us like we're beneath you -"

"Outside. Now." And Chakotay actually took him by the arm and all but dragged him outside.

"Want to tell me what that that little scene was about?"

He was strongly reminded of his father at that moment. He wrenched his arm free from Chakotay's iron grip and turned his back on him to face the sea.

"Fine. Stay here whilst I apologise to Sun-Yin. That's an order."

He stood, breathing hard, anger pulsing through his veins. He watched the stormy ocean, the black clouds. He saw the lights, lots of them now, out to sea. There was a rock at his feet, and so he hurled it as hard as he could at the lights. Then he threw another one, and another.

As he got wetter and wetter, he grew calmer. His breathing grew more even. And gradually, embarrassment flooded him. What the hell _was_ that about? Why had he even said those things to Chakotay? He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering.

He respected Chakotay, always had done since their first meeting in the Maquis. He cringed at the memory; he'd been so hungover he'd thrown up after Chakotay pulled a zero-G in that rustbucket shuttle of his. And the galling thing was, he craved the respect back._ "You can count on me," _he wanted to say_. "I'm okay really." _But deep down, he had the sinking feeling that he wasn't. And Chakotay knew that.

After a while, Chakotay returned. He had an odd look on his face.

"Look, Chakotay," he started to say, but he was interrupted.

"You're excused. Sun-Yin said this could happen."

His brow furrowed. "Said what could happen?"

"Apparently it's a side-effect of the storms. They're known to cause irritability, paranoia, depression; it affects everyone differently."

"Oh. Well...okay then." He looked down at the ground, scuffed the dirt with his boot. "Guess the elders should've mentioned that when they invited us to stay here."

"I agree. They thought we'd be immune to the effects, seeing as how we're not from here."

He nodded, keeping his head down. Maybe that explained a few things, but that didn't stop him from feeling like a complete idiot.

"We should get back to the inn before it gets dark," Chakotay said.

The two men walked in silence. Chakotay had a pissed look on his face, and Paris interpreted his silence as animosity towards him.

But Chakotay's thoughts would have surprised Paris. For Chakotay was feeling seriously annoyed with himself. He should have checked what the effects of the storm were before accepting the invitation to stay here. He should have asked Sun-Yin more questions. He should have consulted the Doctor at least. But instead, he'd been so eager to get away from Voyager, to stay in this village, that he'd railroaded Janeway and leaned on Paris without thinking through the consequences. He felt ashamed of himself, and also a little disappointed at Sun-Yin for not telling him about these side-effect sooner.

They reached the inn, still not speaking. Bo growled and barked at Paris as they went in.

"I'm so sick of this place," Paris muttered.

"Paris -"

"I'm getting an early night."

000

There were no more ghostly visions. But somewhere around the planet's equivalent of three in the morning came an almighty explosion. Chakotay sat up, shaken, and ran into Paris's room.

The pilot was throwing off layers of blankets. "What the hell was that?"

Chakotay looked out the window. He saw flames leaping from one of the huts at the far end of the harbour. "Lightening strike. Come on."

They grabbed their overcoats and rushed outside. There was a commotion in the dark, voices shouting, people rushing past. As they reached the blaze, they saw a line of men passing buckets of water from the sea to pour on the fire, as well as a gaggle of village folk watching.

Paris spotted Hong-Li in the line. "Is anyone inside?" he shouted to him over the rain. "No," shouted Hong-Li back, "just your gallicite and some fishing gear."

"How can we help?" Chakotay said..

"Join the line. We need to extinguish the fire before it spreads."

Chakotay turned away but Paris grabbed his shoulder. "What about the gallicite?"

"You heard Hong-Li. We need to put the fire out first."

"But it might be too late."

"It's because of you what's caused the fire in first place," an old woman in the crowd said, pointing at Paris. It was the woman they'd first seen at the well, Paris realised. "Ghosts are angry with you, lad."

Paris ignored the comment. "What do we do?" he said to Chakotay, urgently.

Chakotay looked over at the hut briefly, saw the flames rising higher, licking hungrily at the wooden structure. All those hours spent collecting the gallicite, wasted. They'd be going back to Voyager empty-handed. He swallowed down his disappointment. "Nothing. It's too dangerous. Help me with the water."

"We've got to do something," he heard Paris say. And the next thing Chakotay knew was Paris, dunking his coat in the sea and then holding it over his head as he ran into the flames.

000

Gao jumped back as Paris entered the inn coughing, Chakotay following close behind.

"Oh no," Gao screeched, "You can't stay here now. I don't want my inn burning down on account of you. I saw what happened -"

"Leave us alone, would you Gao?" Chakotay said, his eyes flashing.

Gao opened his mouth to protest, but Chakotay gave him such a look that the innkeeper retreated, muttering to himself. Chakotay turned back to the pilot.

"What the hell was that, Paris?" His voice cracked like a whip.

Paris looked away sullenly. He'd lost his coat in the fire, and his tunic was scorched.

The lack of response goaded him. "You nearly got yourself killed. What the hell were you thinking? We could've collected more gallicite." His heart was pounding even now, and he could feel himself shaking.

"No we couldn't," Paris said, "they wanted us gone as soon as the storm was over."

"You don't know that."

Paris coughed again into his sleeve. "Look, I was improvising. Going on instinct. I thought that's why you wanted me for this mission?"

"Yes, but not to take stupid risks." He turned away, trying to calm down. Paris had scared him badly running into the fire like that. He'd tried to follow but had been held back, and he'd had to wait for what seemed like forever until the pilot came hurtling back out with the gallicite, seemingly on fire until he'd shed his coat.

"I see," Paris drawled. "So it's okay to improvise as long as it fits in with you and your plan. The next time I do anything spontaneous, I'll be sure to run it past you first."

"What is it with you and risks anyway?" Paris looked startled at the fury behind his words, and actually took a step back. "Do you really think a few grand heroic gestures are going to atone for your sins? Earn people's trust again? I'm sorry to break it to you, but it doesn't work like that."

"The Captain trusts me," Paris shot back in defense.

"The Captain trusts everyone. She has to."

Paris looked away quickly, but not quickly enough to hide his look of hurt.

He realised that his fists were clenched, and he forced himself to step back, to take a deep breath. "Pack up your gear. I want you back here in five minutes."

Whilst Paris was packing, Chakotay massaged his temples, trying to centre himself. That was really stupid, he kept thinking. But that was Paris. Sometimes he did really stupid, reckless things. Who was he trying to impress anyway?

_You_, a small voice said.

Paris doesn't care what I think, he answered the voice.

_ You know that's not true._

A sudden memory came to mind; Paris, standing at his door, apologising in that irreverent way of his after the interview with Neelix. But it was the look on his face when Chakotay had dismissed him; he'd never seen Paris look like that before. Except for five minutes ago.

_ Damn_.

When Paris returned, Chakotay said evenly, "When Sun-Yin told me about the effects of the storm, he offered to host one of us at his home. I strongly suggest you take him up on that offer." Paris did not react.

"The storm's obviously affecting us," he continued. "We've both said things we regret, and it'll be safer if we keep out of each other's way until Voyager returns."

"Fine by me," Paris said coolly. His defenses were fully up, and his expression was unreadable.

"You know the way?"

The pilot smirked. "I'm a big boy, Chakotay."

Chakotay felt the overwhelming urge to smack Paris in the face, and it was all he could do to maintain his composure as Paris left.

000

He didn't think the storm could get any worse, but the sound of the rain hammering on the roof proved him wrong. He ate breakfast alone, and felt strangely bereft. Gao took great delight in telling him he hadn't seen a storm as bad as this in long time. The innkeeper was notably happier now that Paris had gone.

To get away from Gao's incessant chatter, and seeing as how the gallicite extraction had now ceased, he took to pounding the cliffs. It was ironic; he'd given the pilot a dressing down for taking risks, yet here he was out walking in an enormous thunderstorm. He could not bring himself to care very much.

Unconsciously he took the same route that he and Paris had walked the other evening, before the storm had really taken hold, and before Paris had had his nightmare. He only realised he'd been retracing their route when he got to the viewing point. Today the murky sea merged with the storm clouds and the fog so that he could not tell where the water ended and the sky began. But the other night -

_ "Beautiful, isn't it?" Paris had commented. A crimson sun was melting into the wine-dark sea, and the clouds glowed rosy pink, streaking across the sky like strokes from an artist's brush. _

_ Chakotay nodded. The beauty was like an ache. _

_ "I can see why you'd want to stay here," Paris said. _

_ He was a little surprised at the pilot's insight. "It has crossed my mind, I'll admit." _

_ "So why don't you? I mean, it's not like we have a whole lot waiting for us back in the Alpha Quadrant."_

_ "You think that?" _

_ "Sure." Paris shrugged, looking away from the scene. "I'm under no illusions about Starfleet." There was a hard look in his eyes. "They're not going to welcome us back with open arms just because we happened to get flung halfway across the galaxy." _

_ "I'm curious. If you feel that way, why don't you leave Voyager?" _

_ "For real, you mean?" _

_ "You got on all right with the Talaxians, didn't you?" _

_ "I guess..." Paris smiled then. "But someone has to stay and look after Harry." _

_ The sun had almost melted away, and the wind was beginning to pick up again._

_ "What about you?" Paris said. "Why are you staying?" _

_ He hesitated._

_ Sudden comprehension dawned on Paris. "Oh...You're staying for her." _

_ "Storm's picking up again," Chakotay said, turning his back on the last embers of the sunset. "We should head back." _

Now, as Chakotay looked at the grey wall of driving rain, the sunset seemed like a faint dream, as if it had never been.

On returning to the inn, he discovered Gao getting drunk over the bar with some of his cronies. "You had a visitor," the innkeeper informed Chakotay.

"Oh?" said Chakotay, hanging up his coat.

"He took your gallicite. Sun-Yin. Said he wanted to check the fire hadn't damaged it." Gao leered at him, and Chakotay smelt the strong alcohol on his breath. "Looked bad to me though, all scorched it were."

"Fine." He found that he wasn't so concerned about the gallicite today. He started to head upstairs, away from the crowd, but one of the men said,

"It's better that your friend's out the way. The ghosts can have him. Sun-Yin knew what he was doing."

"I'm sorry?"

"Ssssh," Gao said, swaying. "We weren't supposed to say nothing. The elders told us..."

The men were laughing, but Chakotay advanced on Gao.

"What did the elders tell you?"

Gao looked up at him, and seemed to realise how tall he was. "Well, he's being taken, isn't he. That's why he's there. He'll go quiet, like, with the ghosts."

"That's not why Paris is there."

"Aint it?"

In a low voice, so that the rest of Gao's cronies couldn't hear, Chakotay said, "The side-effects of the storm -"

Gao smiled at him pityingly. "There 'aint none. They made it up, see. They wanted to get 'im out the way. He was making people nervous."

"We lost some of our fishing gear 'cause of him," another man said, and Chakotay recognised him as one of the fishermen who had been out last night fighting the fire.

"He's better off with Sun-Yin," Gao said - "where do you think you're going?" For Chakotay had grabbed his coat and was storming out the door. "He's not comin' back 'ere!" Gao called after him.

000

Chakotay burst into Sun-Yin's hut. Sun-Yin was kneeling by the fire, and appeared to be meditating. He looked up in alarm. "Chakotay!"

"Why did you lie to me?" Chakotay said, breathing hard. "Gao told me. There are no side effects. Why did you try and separate us?"

Sun-Yin looked at him much the same way as Gao had done. "It's for the best," he said. "The ghost lantern your friend saw in his room that night was real, even if you both chose not to believe it. They have come to take him away - "

Chakotay glanced around the room. The case of gallicite sat in the corner. "Where is he?"

"It is obvious that you care for each other, otherwise you would not harbour so much anger towards each other - " Chakotay began searching the rooms, and Sun-Yin followed him "- we thought that, out of respect for you, we would save you the pain of watching your friend being taken, so we decided to bring him here instead - "

"Where is he?" he said again, more forcefully.

"He is down by the sea. That's where they all go, in the end." The elder took Chakotay's arm in a frail grip. He looked genuinely distressed. "Let him go."

"I can't do that." He gently removed the Sun-Yin's hand and headed out into the storm.

It took Chakotay a while to find him, even with the help of a lantern. Eventually he saw a form by the water's edge.

"Paris?"

As he approached, he saw that Paris was sitting, his arms casually wrapped round his knees, staring ahead at the sea. He was unsure how to proceed, and so he settled for sitting down next to him.

"What are you doing out here?"

After a few seconds, Paris replied, "They're calling me."

"Who's calling you?"

Paris didn't answer. Even by the low glow of the lantern, Chakotay could tell there was something very wrong.

"Paris, come inside."

Paris shook his head. "It's too dark in there."

"It's darker out here."

"No, it isn't." His eyes glittered strangely. "The ocean is shining."

Chakotay shielded his eyes against the rain and looked where Paris was looking. The waves were crashing and the sea looked dark and ominous.

"And there's people," Paris continued, "walking around."

His breath caught. "Paris, come inside," he said again, more insistently.

"You know, I do have a first name," Paris said, sounding for the first time like his normal self.

"All right. Tom. Come inside."

"Gao was right. I did see a ghost lantern that night. I just pretended I didn't."

"Okay."

"I'm fading away." A note of fear had crept into his voice. "Look." He held up his hands in front of him.

"They look fine to me, Par – Tom."

Paris shook his head resolutely. "They feel like shadows." He looked at Chakotay helplessly.

"That's it." He hauled the younger man to his feet. "We're going inside."

Paris was leaning on him heavily, and by the time they got to the hut, Chakotay was all but dragging him. There was no sign of Sun-Yin.

"Here, sit by the fire," Chakotay said, easing him down.

"There's more of them in here," Paris said, looking around in agitation as Chakotay went to get a blanket. "Can't you see them?"

"I'll look in a minute," Chakotay said, somewhat at random, draping the blanket around Paris's shoulders. Now that they were out of the storm, Chakotay was able to assess the pilot's condition more clearly. As he looked at Paris carefully, he saw with a jolt that Paris's skin had taken on an odd, almost translucent quality. He scrutinised him closer; it - it was like Paris was becoming less definable somehow, less solid. _What the hell was going on? _

He shook himself, forced himself to remain calm. "Tom, I'm going to make you a hot drink, and I want you to talk to me."

"About what?"

"Anything." He went over to the cooking area and hunted around for the broth. "Talk me through how you'd escape from a stall in a high G barrel roll."

"I did escape from a stall in a high G barrel roll."

"Really? Tell me about it."

He heard the smile in Paris's voice. "Are you trying to pick up some tips?"

"No, I'm impressed. No one in my year at flight school could perform that manoeuvre."

"Maybe I'll show you," Paris said. "On the holodeck."

"You're on."

When the broth was ready, he forced Paris to drink it, and it seemed to revive him a little.

Chakotay stoked the fire so that it was roaring, and was now pulling the shutters closed over the windows. The storm seemed to be mounting in fury. There was a knot of worry rising in his stomach that he kept pushing down. _Please let the storm end, _he prayed._ Please let me get him back safe._

"Chakotay?"

He finished closing the last shutter and then went to sit down.

"Since I'm dying, can I have my three wishes now?"

"What?"

"You said before, back on Ocompa, your tribe couldn't change into birds. Did they teach you to grant wishes?"

"See, now you're confusing us with genies," Chakotay said lightly, tugging the blankets tighter around Paris's shoulders. "Remind me to educate you about my tribe when we get back to Voyager."

"I don't think I'll be going back to Voyager."

"Yes, you will."

Paris shook his head."They're inside the hut," he said desperately.

"There's no one here," he said firmly.

"You can't see them because it's too dark. You need to put the fire out."

"Tom," he said slowly, deliberately, "you're not well. We need the warmth from the fire."

Paris closed his eyes, distressed.

"Tom -"

"I don't know what's real anymore."

He reached out and tried to put a calming hand on the pilot's shoulder, the way he'd seen Janeway do countless times before, but his fingers tingled and seemed to sink down. He withdrew, slightly horrified.

They sat for a moment in silence, listening to the rain beating down. He had no idea what to do.

"I can't grant you your wishes," Chakotay said eventually, "but I can tell you three things that are real. But you have to listen."

Paris opened his eyes again. He looked over Chakotay's shoulder - "There's a man. He's standing right beside you -".

"Look at me, Tom," Chakotay said firmly.

The walls rattled as the storm assaulted the hut. _  
_

"All right," he said, when Paris's attention was on him. "Here's the first thing. I met your father once. Did you know that?"

Paris shook his head.

"It was at the Academy. I was the instructor on the tactical training course, and your father came to give a guest lecture."

"Lucky you."

"He talked a lot about you."

Paris snorted. "Bragged, more like."

Yes, that was a more accurate assessment. Chakotay clearly remembered Admiral Paris; he was a tall man with steely blue eyes, who had used his young son as a bench mark to shame the other cadets. Even before he'd started at the Academy, Paris already had the reputation of a snotty-nosed Admiral's kid. Everyone knew who he was. Of course, it didn't help that Paris had been so cocky – but then, Chakotay wondered with a flash of insight, how else was Paris supposed to act? It was like he was trying to prove himself from the very beginning, to measure up to his father's words from the get go.

"What did you think of him?" Paris asked, breaking into his reverie.

"He was..." Chakotay searched for the appropriate words. "Relentless. Unforgiving. He had this phrase he kept parotting - 'there is no excuse for failure'."

"Sounds about right." He began shifting in his blankets restlessly. "I think they want me to go now."

"But I haven't told you the second thing yet," Chakotay said "It's about Caldek Prime."

That got Paris's attention. He stared at him accusingly. "What about Caldek Prime?"

"I looked over the flight records of the accident -"

"Why?"

Chakotay shrugged, purposely trying to keep calm in the face of Paris's anger. "I suppose I was curious. I was in the Maquis at the time, but it was all over the news feeds that you falsified the reports. I suppose I wanted to know why the golden boy screwed up."

"And?"

"When you lost control of the shuttle, you entered a tail spin," Chakotay continued, "You tried an Immelmann turn to compensate. It wasn't by-the-book – I'm guessing that's why you tried to cover it up. Maybe if you'd followed the 'correct' protocol, you would have saved the shuttle. Or maybe you'd have been killed too." Paris looked away.

"But here's the second thing that's real," Chakotay said. "If it had been me in that tail spin, I would have tried an Immelmann turn too."

Paris stiffened. Then, after a long moment, he looked at him, his eyes bright. "Yeah?"

Suddenly there was an almighty crash as the door and shutters flew open and the windowpanes shattered. They both ducked, and instinctively Chakotay tried to shield Paris from the showering glass. Then he leapt up and with great difficulty pushed the door closed. The wind was tearing the place apart, but before he could see do anything about that, he saw Paris close his eyes. His body seemed to be melting away to join the darkness.

"Tom?" He tried to lift the pilot up. "Tom!" He slapped him. Paris's body seemed to jerk, and with a gasp he opened his eyes.

"Stay awake. That's an order."

Paris was looking somewhere over Chakotay's shoulder, his eyes fixed on something.

"Look at me," Chakotay shouted, and shook him until his gaze returned to Chakotay.

"This is the third thing that's real. Are you listening?"

Paris gave a small nod.

"I know you don't think I trust you. I didn't always, I'll admit. But I do now."

Paris's lips moved, and he had to bend down low to hear him. "Prove it," Paris whispered.

"I – what?"

"If you trust me... you'll put the fire out."

He stared at Paris, and Paris stared back, pleading with him silently.

"It might make it worse. Whatever's happening to you."

"Please."

And so Chakotay began to put the fire out. He ignored the voice screaming in his head for him to stop, and forced himself to pour sand onto the fire, forced himself to stamp out the last remaining embers. And then the fire was out, and that was when Chakotay realised that they were not alone.

He turned, and started - for in the window was an outline of a man, holding a lantern. And then beside him – another man, cloaked, hunched over. He cried out, and jumped back. And there was another, standing in the corner. And that deep, awful groaning noise - it was coming from _them_.

He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, could hear it in his breath. All he could think of was getting away from them, from that awful sound, and he scrabbled backwards, pulled open the door and ran outside. But they were out here, too; figures carrying lanterns, and the sea – Paris was right – it was glowing.

And then it was as if Starfleet's training asserted itself over the almost primordial fear. It wasn't the sea that was glowing, some rational part of him reasoned, it was the gallicite buried underneath. Why could he suddenly see both the ghost lanterns and the gallicite? Something seemed to click in his miind, and he ran back inside the hut, avoiding the cloaked figures - found the case of gallicite, opened it – and there was an explosion of light, and as he shielded his eyes he saw the snarling faces under the cloaks, saw them all turn towards the gallicite...

000

Darkness. Stillness. When Chakotay opened his eyes, he was struck by how quiet it was. He looked about him quickly, but the cloaked figures had disappeared. They were alone.

He knelt down, feeling for Paris in the darkness. "Tom? Tom?"

"Yeah," came a weak voice.

"How you feeling?"

A grunt in response.

Chakotay slipped his arm around Paris's shoulders, and hauled him up.

"They gone?" Paris said weakly.

"Yes. They've gone." He helped Paris outside the hut, into the calm evening. They stood for a moment.

"Storm's broken," Paris whispered.

Before them, over the ocean, the sky was a canvas with a million brilliant stars. The smell of petrichor hung heavy in the air. It reminded Chakotay of home.

His comm badge chittered. He supported Paris with one arm as he answered it. "Chakotay."

"Chakotay," a voice said warmly. "It's good to hear your voice."

For the first time since arriving on this planet, a sense of peace settled over him. He looked over at Paris. Paris's face had lit up on hearing Janeway's voice.

He allowed himself a smile. "It's good to hear your voice too, Captain."

000

Tom and Harry were playing cards when Chakotay entered sickbay.

"Would you excuse us for a minute, Harry?" Chakotay said.

"No problem," said Harry, looking at Paris significantly. "I'm due back on shift soon anyway."

It was the first time he'd seen Chakotay since they'd returned to Voyager. He felt a little embarrassed, and for lack of anything better to do he picked up Harry's hand of cards. "Huh. Knew he was bluffing."

Chakotay sat down in the recently vacated seat. "How are you?"

"Oh, fine," he said automatically. "Doc reckons I can get out of here by the end of the week." He hadn't been fine though; according to the Doctor, they'd beamed him back up to Voyager half-dead, and they'd been pumping him with fluids and bloods and goodness knows what else ever since. The Doc had been at a loss to explain the cause of it.

But Chakotay only nodded. "Good."

"So... no gallicite again. I guess the Captain's not happy."

"I think Lieutenant Torres was more annoyed. She says she'll get it herself the next time an opportunity arises."

"Third time's the charm," he said lightly.

There was an awkward silence. He broke it by saying, "Harry said you went back to the planet."

"I thought it was important to say goodbye. And to tell the villagers that the 'ghosts' preferred the gallicite to you."

"Bet that went down well."

"A few believed me. Sun-Yin, for example. But most of them wanted to believe that you died that night."

He began stacking the cards with one hand. "Guess it takes a while for people to change their beliefs."

Out the corner of his eye he saw Chakotay nod.

"I wonder who those guys were," he said, referring to the ghosts, "I mean, what did they want with me? And why did they take the gallicite instead of me?"

"You're asking the wrong man," Chakotay said. "I have no explanations for what we witnessed. You should see my report; it reads like a bad Edgar Allen Poe novel."

Paris laughed, and at that moment the Doctor stuck his head around the door.

"Visiting hours are nearly over, Commander."

"All right, Doctor," Chakotay said.

"Wait," he said quickly. He wished he wasn't lying on a biobed in sickbay blues having this conversation with Chakotay. Still, he ploughed on. "That night... I was pretty out of it, but I remember some stuff." He moved the cards around at random. "Did you... did you mean all that stuff you said? Or was it just because I was dying?"

"I meant it," said Chakotay evenly.

He tried to keep the relief from his voice. "Okay...good." He cleared his throat. "And the other stuff? After the fire?"

"I meant that too."

"Oh." Tried to sound casual. "Okay."

"Time's up, Commander," the Doctor sang, appearing out of nowhere.

"Here," Chakotay said, getting to his feet, and he handed him a padd.

Paris looked at it, his brow furrowing. "What -"

"You have some gaps in your education that need filling."

He activated the screen. _"A History of the Rubber Tree People," _he read out.

"That's the name of the tribe I belong to. I've been compiling a record of it recently; I'd be interested to hear your thoughts."

He was a little taken aback, and strangely touched by the significance of the gift. "Thanks. I'll read it."

"Good." Chakotay grinned. "Maybe then you'll believe me when I say I can't change into a bird, and I can't grant wishes."

"Come along, Commander." The Doctor was annoyingly perky. "It's time for Mr. Paris's evening injection of fluids."

And perhaps it was because Chakotay needed to reassure himself that he was indeed okay, real, and not a shadow, for the Indian held out his hand, and they shook hands.

"You know," continued the EMH after Chakotay had gone, "this really is a most fascinating medical case; I'm considering writing a paper on it."

"Knock yourself out, Doc," he replied absently. As the Doctor fussed around him, he shifted a little to get comfortable, and started to read.

"A History of the Rubber Tree People, by Chakotay.

In memory of Kolopak, my father."

_Finis_


End file.
